


metamelomai

by shslducktective



Series: "king and lionheart" [3]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, ロード・エルメロイⅡ世の事件簿 - 三田誠 | Lord El-Melloi II Case Files - Sanda Makoto
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 10:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shslducktective/pseuds/shslducktective
Summary: "of all the pain that comes with missing you, none is worse than regret."





	metamelomai

**Author's Note:**

> nothing fancy here. just a sad little ficlet that wrote itself last night.

 It always hurts, missing you.

 Sometimes it's a bittersweet pain. A fond memory that flashes through my mind, etching a smile into my tired face. Your ridiculous grin. Your obnoxious laugher. Your stubborn insistence on embarrassing me wherever we went. Your shouts of victory whenever something happened to work out for you. The way you never knew when to shut up. The way you would mumble to yourself in front of the telly, fascinated by those stupid documentaries. That noise you would make whenever you were contemplating something. That fondness in your eyes as you pored over maps and books that would bore the average man to death. I like to imagine that you would look at me with that same fondness. A fool like my younger self could never have been worthy of your favor, but it's nice to pretend.

 Sometimes it's a desperate pain. This kind is mostly physical, a sense of longing that pools in my belly and sets my body aflame. Every inch of my skin craves your touch, but I'm helpless, burning with the knowledge that I might never feel you again. My attempts to sate my desire for you are nothing but futile. Nothing in this world could ever match any aspect of you. Your all-encompassing warmth. Your incredible strength. The scent of spice and sand that you leave in your wake. The feel of the calluses and battle scars on your skin beneath my frail fingertips. My memories taunt me, and my body aches with want, but whenever I try to satisfy myself, I'm only left with emptiness and shame. You would probably laugh if you saw me in such an embarrassing state.

 Sometimes it's a crippling pain. A pain that starts in my chest and rises to my throat, choking me and leaving me gasping for air. A pain that can only be described as pure terror, rendering me useless despite the lack of any real threat, reminding me that something is seriously fucking wrong with me. It manifests like chains, like blades that pierce the sky, like the smell of blood in the air, like the sound of water beneath the bridge rushing over your dying words. My knees start to shake, and I'm burdened with the vivid reminder that fearing for someone else's life is so much worse than fearing for your own. Every bone in my body cries out, desperate to do something to save you, but I'm ten years too late. Remembering that you've already been gone for over a decade is hardly any comfort. The terror is still real.

 Sometimes it's a hollow pain. Dull yet overwhelming. Subtle in its ability to consume me whole. It's a pain that always lingers in the back of my mind, never allowing me a moment of peace. I try to fill it with alcohol and tobacco, video games and detective novels, long days spent toiling away in the office and even longer nights spent poring over complicated manuscripts. It never does anything more than distract me until I finally close my eyes. When my body finally succumbs to the need for sleep, I try to curb the pain in any way possible, as ridiculous as my methods may be. Sleeping on the couch so there's no room for me to miss your oversized presence. Sleeping beneath your painted likeness so it still feels like you're here with me. Sleeping with a mind clouded by overwork and exhaustion so I have no time to wonder if I'm any closer to being with you again.

 Of all the pain that comes with missing you, none is worse than regret. It starts with a passing thought, like a wish that fate had allowed us more time together. It never ends there. Before I can stop myself, I find myself overthinking every moment I spent with you. I regret my cowardice, every impulse I never followed and every word I never said. How I failed to do anything of value while you fought tirelessly, expending only your own mana to save me from exhaustion. How I failed to help you fulfill your dream, a dream that I grew to call my own. I think of the little things. I think of the times I wanted nothing more than to nestle into your lap and kiss you until our lips felt raw, and I remember my fear that you would reject me. I think of the three simple words that kept bubbling at the back of my throat and trying to roll off my tongue, and I remember how foolishly I refused to speak them. I think of my biggest mistakes and all I could have done to save you. I think of the strategies I could have employed if I had only studied in advance. I think of the mana I could have shared if I had only prepared for such an obvious necessity. I think of all the bloodshed I could've prevented if I hadn't pretended to know everything.

 Regret is always pointless. No matter how hard I work or how bitterly I long for you, nothing in my power can rewind the hands of the clock and give me a chance to do it all over again. Still, I swear that if I could redo everything, you would have your wish granted. I like to think that maybe, just maybe, you would remain by my side. For even a chance at that, I would suffer through this pain for a million lifetimes. It would be worth it all for you.


End file.
